


The Girl on the run

by Freewaygirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freewaygirl/pseuds/Freewaygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the Scandal in Belgravia: in a world where Moriarty has taken over the country, Sherlock and John live in hiding. Until the day Mycroft, now minister of security, wants them to find Isabel Williams. The young woman has stolen important data from the government and covers a dark secret. Moran and Moriarty are looking for her. What will happen when Isabel and Sherlock have to live and work together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my very first Sherlock fan fiction.
> 
> I hope you like and enjoy it a bit. It's AU and I'm going to try to keep Sherlock as far as possible in character.
> 
> Thanks to the lovely daisherz365 who was my Beta and had a look on this :)
> 
> Can't wait for all your reviews
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, but Stephen Moffat and Mark Gatiss do :)

1.

The night was falling upon London.  
Exactly at this moment a young woman ran through the streets and was pursued by several black dressed men. She ran fast and tried to shake off her pursuers. The noise of her feet hammered on the hard subsoil of the street down.  
In her head was pure fear.  
What she had done had not been clever and, on the other hand, it was her only chance of a new life.  
Behind her she could hear the men that her followed always getting closer.  
„Give it up, young lady!“, one of them shouted.  
No! She was not able, not here, not now, not again!  
„If you stay where you are, there will be nothing to fear!“, screamed another male voice. They would do anything, just to catch her.  
Her name was Isabel and she was in up to her neck in trouble.  
She hurried around a corner and into a lane. While she ran Isabel desperately tried to calm her breathing. Everything the men cat-called was only for one reason: to arrest her. Even if it was a lie.  
She could hear her pursuers from afar meaning that she had to cook up something fast.  
Luckily a fire escape caught her eye after a few seconds. Indeed, it wasn't let down yet. Isabel had to contrive something. Once more she looked around and discovered a dumpster which stood directly under the fire escape. Quickly Isabel approached to it, climbed on it and lowered the ladders. She just wanted to breathe deeply and climb up when she heard voices behind herself. Quickly Isabel turned her head and saw that the chasing pack were with her in the lane.  
Shit, Isabel thought and hurried up ladders . Even as she went to put her foot on the third rung, somebody grabbed her ankle and pulled her down. Only scarcely did Isabel get to hold onto the railing of the ladder.  
„Gotcha!“ the guy hissed.  
„No chance!“ Isabel snarled back and attempted to kick at the guy's face and was even successful.  
He expelled a ringing shout and pressed his hands on his face. At this moment Isabel escaped. Like a cat she climbed up the fire escape to the next rooftop.  
Up here Isabel took her time to breathe deeply, then she had one more look down and had to realize that another pursuer was close at her heels and climbed up to the flat roof.  
This time Isabel was really in the trap, unless she would find a way from the roof, to rescue herself. Her feet carried her to the edge where she looked in the depth. Under her yawned the abyss whose ground was the street.  
„Damn, why does it always rain on me?“ murmured Isabel.  
However then even as she wanted to turn away, she saw something that calmed her: under her there was a small balcony.  
Isabel thought: with a specific jump she could escape. She felt that beside the rain now also several drops of sweat ran down her face. If she jumped, she had only one chance, only one and if Isabel messed it up, she had to suffer the consequences . Her breath went faster.  
„Now pretty one, I guess you are trapped! “ Isabel heard a voice behind her.  
„Don't think so...“ she grinned and then jumped in the depth.  
And she fell and fell, and believed that she just missed her aim.  
Then, however, her feet touched the floor of the balcony.  
„Okay.“ , Isabel gasped and eyed briefly up to the roof. The type looked down the edge and seemed to curse. Isabel lifted her hand to a mocking farewell and then ran down the stairs to the street.  
Isabel wiped her free hand over her wet face.  
Then she slowly went down the street with the look to the ground she inhaled deeply and without paying attention if she barged against someone. She reached in her trouser pocket.  
Her small burglary in the government headquarters had not been as successful as she had hoped for.  
Walking in had not been the problem for her: slipping through a security sluice here because there was no burglar alarm and she had been in the heart of security of London.  
Nevertheless: it had been difficult to have a look in her files. For quite some time she was kept under surveillance. A majority of the London underworld was on her tail.  
Since the coup d'état she was on the run.  
Isabel never asked for this mess but after the landslide victory the entire country had changed within a few moments. For five years Isabel had to look over her shoulder when she was on the street, in constant fear to get caught.  
Active surveillance everywhere. People who suddenly disappeared without leaving a trace.  
mysterious deaths among the opponents members of the new government and many people who had been moved into resistance.  
Slowly she pulled a flash device from her pocket and turned it in her fingers to and fro.  
Maybe this was her ticket out of this chaos.  
Maybe she could be able to buy herself free, finally.  
Stolen security data which the owner absolutely would want to have back.  
If necessary she negotiated.  
The new system had taken away nearly everything from her: her physical intactness, her pride, a part of her soul, the trust in other people and her family.  
From one day to the next they had been torn apart.  
Her parents had been already arrested as members of the opposition. They had been murdered as far as Isabel knew.  
At the age of seventeen Isabel had been imprisoned in an education programme for juveniles.  
The memories of this time were always with her, they never left her and they refused her a quiet sleep.  
Isabel still wandered through the empty streets of London.  
A curfew had been arranged for the nights.  
She trembled a little: the cold crept in her bones and the warmth dwindled from her muscles.  
Isabel was sure that she had to find a hiding place for the night.  
From her pocket she pulled her mobile phone out. Reckless of course but she had no better plan.  
Isabel rapidly dialed a number and soon she could hear the dialling tone.  
„Hello?“, asked a male voice at the other end of the line.  
„Eric? This is Izzie, I need your help.“, she said fast.  
„Let me guess, you need a place for the night.“, noted Eric and sighed lightly.  
„To tell you the truth I really thought your cellar was very comfortable last time.“, Isabel laughed in her cellphone.  
„They already have a down on me because we were friends in school and so the police has already paid me a visit this afternoon! I do not believe that my flat is the safest place for you to stay at the moment.“, he objected.  
„If you do not want to help me just say it, but I should submit that my butt is the most wanted in town since the last thirty minutes.“, Isabel answerded.  
„What have you done?“, Eric grunted at the other end of the phone.  
„I have broken into Mycroft Holmes' security control center and I am sure that he has already put all his security guards on me, which is why I think that in this case sleeping under a bridge is even more dangerous than another night in a cellar where they have already looked.“, Isabel explained and tried give her voice an innocent sound.  
„Are you out of your mind?!“, he nearly screamed.  
„Just calm down, everything is fine.“, Isabel wanted to soothe him.  
„Excuse me, but you just told me you stole from one of the mightiest men in the country. I guess it's normal that I'm freaking out!“, Eric yelled at her.  
„I got what I needed and escaped. Well maybe I punched one of them... “, she answered him.  
„You're screwed. If they find you and whatever you've stolen the least of your problems will be that you have no place to sleep for the night.“, he growled.  
„Come on! Don't make it so easy for them to catch me!“, Isabel snapped.  
„You messed with the iceman, Izzie! We're talking about a man who knows no mercy when someone tries to screw him over! No one is cheating him, not even you.“, he sounded desperate and also worried.  
„Don't worry. I don't think they know where to look for me, but being out here puts me in terrible danger! You know there's no other way out for me! “, she was as desperate as Eric was.  
Her voice faltered a little because she was afraid Eric would not want to help her.  
„Sorry Izzie, I know that the last years were really hard for you and maybe you are right but who tells me that the police does not turn up here again to arrest us both?“, he seemed to be nervous.  
„Nobody, but sleeping on the street is even more dangerous for me at the moment. Then they'll arrest me within the next hour. Please, Eric, it will be the last time.“, she begged him, trying to speak steadily, there was a little tremble in her voice.  
„I am always too soft with you but you're my friend. However hurry up because a police car is patrolling every ten minutes. I do not want to know what you have pinched...“, he sighed.  
„The less you know the better...“, Isabel shrugged,  
„See you later.“, then her friend hung up and she put her phone back in her pocket.  
The way to Eric‘s apartment would take her at least half an hour, especially when she had to poke along dark lanes.

Mycroft Holmes stood at the scene of the crime: an actually well secure server room in which many important data were stored.  
As usual, he wore a sophisticated tailor-made suit and held an umbrella in his right hand.  
His face showed none of his emotions, which was why people called him 'the iceman'.  
„Would you like to comment?“, he asked the responsible watchman.  
„Sir, she was really skillful! My men lost her outside on the street.“, the man admitted and shook his head.  
„So? Really skillful... I must not explain to you what will happen if this theft becomes public? The national security is in danger and I must not remind you of what will happen if he comes to this knowledge...“, Mycrofts voice sounded irritated however, quietly.  
„Please, sir, can we not sort this incident differently? The cameras took several pictures of her, I've got the pictures here!“, the scared guard thrusted some black-and-white photos into Mycroft Holmes' hand.  
Eagerly interested the iceman examined them.  
„Are you in earnest?“, he perked up his eyebrows.  
„I swear to you, Mr. Holmes that this is the young woman we have pursued! The pictures show her during the burglary!“, assured the man.  
Mycroft shook his head because what he saw and what had happened mismatched: on the one hand there was the crime which had run off nearly smoothly for the thief. But the photo also showed an attractive, young woman. Her hair was short and dark and with the look in the camera a pair of dark eyes glared at him. She was too pretty to be so clever, he decided fast. Moreover, he recognised her immediately. Really he had seen her face already in his data bank.  
An extremely rebellious young woman that no one had been able to tame.  
„Which data did she get possesion of?“, he asked.  
„Those of the education programmes and the re-education measures, sir.“, the man looked contritely at him.  
„That will not go any further! I will take care of this unpleasant affair. No word to anybody and tell DI Lestrade he should not look for her. Hand the video recordings over to me and advise all involved people to be quiet about the incident! Are we clear?“, growled Mycroft and turned round and he put the photos of the young woman in the inside pocket of his jacket.  
„Of course, sir. But what will you do now?“, the security man asked his boss scaredly while he turned around and walked down the hall.  
„This is none of your concern. Removing the hole in the system would be a good start/ Nevertheless, we do not want something like this to happen again, do we?.“, his voice sounded dangerously quiet.  
„Of course not, sir.“, then the distraught man went to the work.  
On his way out Mycroft Holmes organized his thoughts. The girl got him in hot water and she would absolutely not want to get caught. She would hide herself during the next days or she would use a disguise.  
He sighed.  
Heads would literally roll if his boss found out about this. His head.  
Now Mycroft‘s the biggest interest was getting the data back and to his displeasure there was only one person all over London who worked more efficient than the police.  
By now he could imagine the face of mummy's boy: the blue eyes gleaming, a venomous smile on the lips. The case in itself would presumably bore him, but it would be a welcome variety for him.  
Thanks to the new system he had to keep himself hidden, even if London's complete population knew that Sherlock Holmes' had never left 221 B Baker Street or disappeared in the underground. Instead, he was leading the New Scotland Yard in a merry dance and he enjoyed it.  
Yes, Mycroft Holmes needed the help of his younger brother whether he liked it or not.


	2. 2.

2.

Pistol-shots resounded through the halls of 221 B Baker Street.  
„Oh John, is he in a bad mood again?“, Mrs. Hudson asked while she put on the kettle to make tea.  
„He is bored. You know him: if he is without a case, he behaves like a very discontent three-year-old.“, John answered when the window panes started trembling after another shot.  
„He has been like this now for nearly three weeks. I had hoped that he would run out of ammunition or that he would forget about the other mad ideas he had lately... like beekeeping in my laundry room...“, Mrs. Hudson shook her head and sighed.  
„Believe me, nobody would be happier than me if he was stopping this nonsense. The other night he woke me in the middle of the night because he wanted me to listen to his new composition for his violin. Sherlock sleeps little, broods a lot in his mind palace and when he is done, he is usually more frustrated than before or he has new, mad ideas.“, John looked anxiously to the ceiling where the lamp swayed dangerously.  
„Is there nothing else that he could do? Does he really need to stay inside all the time?“, the old lady asked John.  
„You mean if he is able to solve cases like we did before? Like walking around in London? Somehow I wish that was possible, but there are still Moriarty‘s henchmen who would love to kill the world's only consulting detective. Lately he gives himself the pleasure of researching the newspapers for cases New Scotland Yard could not solve and then he sends the solution of the case via email to all reporters in town, only to let the police look like a bunch of badly qualified mall cops.“, the Doctor had to smile while he said it. Sherlock couldn't keep his deduction skills under cover and he hated the incompetence the police showed these days. To Sherlock it was obvious that they did not want to solve crimes. They rather wanted to conceal their own crimes.  
„But this is very dangerous, isn't it? If they arrest him...“, the landlady laid a hand over her mouth.  
„Now... he is not an IT specialist as far as I know, however, he is able to produce a secure connection without outside assistance. At the moment most of the reporters are thinking, he is sitting in North Korea in an atomic shelter, I suppose.“, answered John and chuckled slightly.  
„Oh boys, I don't like it when you are playing such dangerous games...“, Mrs Hudson was seriously in sorrows while the the tea piled up.  
„Mrs Hudson, don't look at me that way, I am truly innocent. I only fear Sherlock will be busted in the near future if he doesn't hold himself back.“, warily John looked up to the ceiling again.  
Since the last shot some minutes had passed.  
„What's wrong my dear?“, Mrs Hudson wanted to know and passed John a cup of Earl Grey.  
„It is a bit too quiet, don't you think?“, he put the cup on the culinary table.  
„Oh John, he wouldn't have...?“, she laid the hand over her mouth.  
„Whether he mourns now his old life or not, he couldn't pull that off...“, laughed John and went out of the kitchen.  
„I will look after him.“, he rose up from his chair, left the kitchen and took the stairs to go to his best friend‘s room.  
Over the last few months Sherlock seldom walked through the streets.  
The election five years ago had made Moriarty into prime minister who transformed the whole country into a place of fear and terror. His first official act was to make sure of the fact that no-one could ever lift him from his comission.  
At first everything stood the way it had been before , but bit by bit Moriarty had started to reform the country: registration of members of the opposition and a general working ban for them as long as they stuck to their political view. Many homeless disappeared in a quite mysterious manner . Homosexuals also started to disappear like people who openly expressed their opinion. It was said that there were prison camps in the country where those people were imprisoned and tortured. There had been some mysterious deaths among former companions of Moriarty and also in the rows of his opponents.  
Young people, especially young girls, were put in education measures when they comitted a breach of the rules. In these institutions the government taught the inmates how to play by the rules and to behave as Moriarty wanted them to.   
There were rumours about these facilities. Rumors like their only idea was to break the will of the children and do to them even worse. Many children of members of the opposition were accommodated there and when they returned, their eyes had been often empty and dead. Like they experienced the end of all times.  
Furthermore there were the goon squads which Sebastian Moran led and also a dreaded unit of snipers. Only one wrong word on the street sufficed and in the evening Moran‘s men were on the doormat and made it clear through kicks and blows what they thought of it.  
Sherlock had been deeply outraged when Moriarty won the election. In the beginning he tried to run things their usual way, walking around in his Belstaff coat and his blue scarf. But Sherlock had to admit that times changed and so he started to use a disguise. This had worked out well for a few months, until Sherlock had started messing with Sebastian Moran in broad daylight.  
Moran was a scurrilous, coarse and in Sherlock‘s view a really silly man. It had been on a crime scene and Sherlock had not been able to resist the temptation when he noticed that Moran obviously drew the wrong conclusions. So he had predashed, had shown up the guy in front of everyone and had unmasked it, himself.  
His luck was that many residents of London still seemed to like him, God knew why, and this protected him from being arrested.   
Since then Sherlock Holmes had to stay in the rooms of 221B Baker Street. A simple precaution.  
Who knew already which plan Moriarty and Moran would cook up against him to get rid of him...  
Also the number of his friends had become less during the last years: Lestrade had had to continue teeth-gnashingly his job in Scotland Yard and played definitely for the wrong team now. He had family, it didn't matter how many times he and his wife had already separated.   
His brother Mycroft became minister for security and took Moriartys cabinet appointment. He told Sherlock Moriarty had forced him to, but Sherlock didn't believed a word of his brother. Their meetings were from now on always particularly chilly and hostile, so that John always felt like a referee within a boxing match. Two heavyweights duking it out.  
However, the most tragic case of loss had overtaken John and Sherlock when Molly Hooper had died. Her body was found in the Thames. Sherlock had examined when he and John went to say their goodbyes to Molly's body in the morgue that to judge by her injuries , she possibly fell into her murderers hands when she was on her way home. Sherlock believed the reason was to shut her up finally, to break her resistence and to show her that it would be better to join Moriarty's side. Her body showed many bruises and cuts, in addition she had had broken fingernails. Molly must have fought desperately for her life until the men overwhelmed the shy and mousy young pathologist. Both culprits abused Molly before they ended her life by a stab wound in her belly. Then they had thrown her in the Thames just like a piece of rubbish.  
John remembered the picture of Molly lying on the stretcher in the morgue.  
It had been one of the saddest moments in his life.  
With Sherlock, he barely showed his grief even if John was sure, he saw some tears in the eyes of the consulting detective when he stood near the corpse. On top of that Sherlock had asked his best friend only to give him one last moment with the body.   
Through the small window in the door John had observed how his friend had bent down to the ear of the dead to whisper something to her.  
When he ask the question what it had been, John had received no answer, he had only received a head-shaking. Presumably this would always remain a secret between Sherlock and Molly.  
John assumed Sherlock nevertheless, might have liked her a little more .   
Of course he would never have wanted to admit this, but he didn't need to because the sad music he played on his violin for days made it definitely clear.  
Molly‘s corpse was burnt and both men decided to scatter her ashes on the roof of St. Barts. She truly would have liked this.  
Slowly John Watson entered Sherlock's sitting room. The yellow Smiley on the wall had some bullet holes more and some of the cushions had bit the dust. Feathers hurtled through the air. Shards of a vase lay on the carpet .  
Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.  
„Sherlock, this is not the best moment to play hide and seek right after you nearly disassembled your living room and have given us a fright! I guess Mrs Hudson is going to be really angry.“, shouted John irritated.  
There was no answer.  
„Come on! I know you hatched something again!“, he shouted further and stepped forward into the room and went in the direction of the fireplace where the skull stood on the mantelshelf.  
„Then I‘ll take the skull!“, believed John with a shrug and reached for it.  
Behind him it rumbled: „NOT THE SKULL!“  
Sherlock stood there in his pyjamas and his blue dressing-gown.  
„ Why not?“, grinned the doctor.  
„With whom should I talk about my cases and explain my deductions?“, shouted the consulting detective resentful.  
„You have no cases. For a change you could dress rationally and come down to us, Mrs Hudson has made tea and she would be absolutely glad to see a sulky Detective in her kitchen.“, sighed John and put the skull back to its place.  
„Ridiculousl! She does not want my experiments any more! Besides, I really liked the idea of producing honey. Extremely inspiring.“, Sherlock thought aloud and stroked his dark curls.  
„She didn't want your honey-experiment because you tried to convert her dryer into a beehive , you crazy idiot!“, wheezed John.  
„It was only an experiment. I am bored. I have no access to the police radio anymore, the newspapers hardly announce crimes. John I need a case! Today I nearly cleaned up!“, he started to run up and down.  
„When were the last time you took a shower?“, John asked Sherlock when he caught his smell.  
„My body hygiene is none of your interest , John!“, hissed the detective.  
„Your smell is really...interesting..and I have to smell it because I live here, so it is my business. Go and take a shower ...now!“, John felt like a governess who tried to tame a stubborn child. His flood of words was interrupted by the ring of the phone.  
Both men exchanged questioning looks and they hesitated. This could hardly mean good news these days.  
„Oh boys, pick up the phone please!“, Mrs Hudson yelled from downstairs.  
It was John who answered the phone.  
„Hello?“, he asked in the earphone and his pupils widened.  
„Anthea?! What do you … today? Now...well I am not sure whether he..., ah, already on his way?! Alright, I will tell him. Are we in trouble?“, John looked to Sherlock, who listened carefully.  
„Not... it's personal then. Okay...“,he hung up the phone.  
John knew that he did not need to say anything: Sherlock had already made his conclusions.  
„Mycroft is paying a visit for tea, how unpredictable.“, he snarled.  
„Anthea said he would be here in about an hour. I know your relationship is currently a little bit strung up, but I still beg you to take a shower and to change clothes.“, John demanded.  
„It is just Mycroft, the man who offered his services willingly and with pleasure to Moriarty. He does not come because he does not know what to do. He knows I am better at my job than his incapable minions.“, he shrugged bitterly.  
„The things are like they are and you don't know what he wants yet. Aren't you curious?“  
„My brother does not know how to process further and, therefore, he needs my advice. I suppose somebody has escaped from him.“, Sherlock grinned contently.  
„Get up. Take a goddamn shower and then pick one of your suits and a shirt from your wardrobe. “, John persuaded him.  
Grumbling Sherlock pulled out a suit and a white shirt from the cupboard and went afterwards to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Isabel reached Eric's flat . By ringing the doorbell she asked for admission. He lived in a small house in Greenwich.   
Before she came here, she had hidden herself successfully from a police car, which drove through the street.  
A tall blond young man opened the door.  
„Hurry up, come in before somebody sees you.“, Eric said without any hesitations and pulled her in the hall of his house.  
„Thanks, you literally just saved my life.“, Isabel smiled at her friend.  
„I would say no problem, but you unleashed the hell outside since your burglary?“, his voice sounded concerned and furious.  
„I know, but believe me I had no choice.“, she defended herself against him. She didn‘t want to have a life on the run anymore.  
„You could be dead or in one of the torture cells, don‘t you know this?“, Eric went down the hall.  
„I'm standing in your hall and I am fine.“, Isabel shouted while she hung up her jacket and pushed the flash drive in her trouser pocket.  
„ The question is how long do you want to make more of these extremely dangerous stupidities.“, Eric answered sarcastically, took two cups from the cupboard, before he made coffee.  
„Could you please stop being nasty with me? So far I know you have also lost people who were important to you.“, she looked at some photos on the chest of drawers. They showed Eric with his parents and, among the rest, also with another young man. Eric‘s boyfriend. The man he had fallen in love with back in high school: Jack. Jack had been everything to him. Tall, strong, good-looking, very charming and he had had only eyes for Eric.  
Until he disappeared. One day he didn't return home from jogging. Presumably they caught him on his round, arrested and kidnapped him.   
His corpse presumably lay in a common grave or had been buried somewhere else.  
It had been three years ago now.   
It took a while for Eric to recover from this shock, as far as it was generally possible.  
Isabel was certain he would give everything just to find out the truth about what had happened to Jack.  
„Thank you Isabel William for laying a finger in my wound.“, Eric fired back.  
„Hey, you know what I mean. I think out there are so many people who earn to know what has happened to their family members and, on the other hand, I know exactly in these file documents there are many crimes and cruelties so I can ransom myself with it as well. For good.“, she smiled.  
„What exactly have you stolen?“, Eric wanted to know and he frowned.  
„This is data about the re-education camps for oppositionals and other people who did not like James Moriarty and who he did not like either. Moreover, I allowed myself to take the data of the education programme for young troublemakers.“, she entered the small, bright kitchen and sat down at Eric‘s culinary table.  
„I hope you do not suspect to row with Mycroft Holmes.“, Eric passed her one cup of coffee.  
„Do you have milk?“, she asked.  
„Cream.“, Isabel agreed in response.  
„Fine..“, she smiled.  
„So? Do you want to row with the iceman?“, Eric sat down to her.  
„Not immediately. I could imagine he is out of sorts with me and I hope that Moriarty still doesn't know anything . It's merely a matter of time.“, Isabel sipped at her coffee after she had put cream in it.  
„How did you get in there?“, he laid his forehead in folds.  
„Well, there is this badly controlled tunnel and I have a small frame. I climbed in and then I slipped through the security gaps.“,she grinned proudly. This was a complete success for her.  
„Do I want to know how you found out about these gaps in the system?“, Eric shook the head.  
„There are lonely watchmen who cannot resist the blink of a young woman.“, laughed Isabel in total amusement.  
„Nevertheless, oh my God Izzie, you did not have...?“, he stared at them with big, green eyes.  
„Don't be ridiculous, Eric! I have merely flirted and brought them something to drink. After the third shot I knew everything I wanted to know.“, proudly she leant back and yawned.  
„If they interrogate me about you I'll deny to even know you.“, he looked at the clock. It was shortly after midnight.  
„I can manage it.“, she laughed again.  
„It is clear to you that he has a brother who has worked for Scotland Yard years ago?“, Eric asked her.  
„Of course. Sherlock Holmes is a legend, but no one has seen him in quite a while, I reckon that either he has given up his craft as an investigator or he is dead. Pity, actually.“, Isabel twitched with her shoulders.  
„Supposedly house arrest. Believe me, if he is searching for you then you are in very hot water!“, said her mate and waited for Isabel‘s reaction.  
„Bollocks! They do not even know who I am, although I am not quite sure whether the supervision cameras were shut down or not. “, she grinned nervously.  
„Oh Izzie.... tell me you're joking.“, he looked really worried.  
„To tell the truth, no, but I am, actually sure that it worked.“  
„I hope for your sake. And why a pity, actually? Did you fancy him?“, Eric grinned. Talking about men was way better, than talking about his best friend being arrested for stealing from the government.  
„Not really. Nevertheless. I was impressed by his intellect. Never met him in person.“, she acted as if it was nothing.  
„So?“, he wanted to annoy her.  
„Come on... I did not think of him as unattractive, however dreadfully arrogant.“, she rolled her eyes.  
„How cute...“, Eric laughed before he took a look on his watch, „you should probably go to the cellar, everything is still where you left it some days ago. I have washed a few of your things“  
„Okay, I‘ll take the coffee and my stuff with me.“, Isabel got up.  
„I'll help you...“, he followed her to the coat rack and wanted to take her pocket.  
„Thanks, my dear, for simply everything. You're the only family I got “, Isabel smiled and followed him by a door on the right from the coatroom in the cellar.  
„You are my friend and my family, no matter what you do or what kind of mess you make.“, Eric laid his hand on her shoulder and hugged her.  
After a little while she lay rolled up on the old sofa that stood beside his washing machine.  
Luckily she had been able to leave some of her things with Eric, otherwise she would spend another day in her sweaty clothes. The next morning she would go and take a shower and then leave the house. Being here over a day was far too dangerous.   
She pulled the duvet closer around herself and tried to calm down. It didn't matter how much she had enjoyed her triumph, she feared to be caught, nevertheless.  
Then everything would start again: being imprisoned, being interrogated, being tortured.  
She inhaled deeply and fell asleep, finally getting some rest. 

Meanwhile Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes sat in Sherlock's living room. Both stared at each other without saying a word. An icy silence dominated the space between them.  
John, also in the space was to play as the referee again if necessary, the cold war was certainly had broken out.  
It was Mycroft who broke the silence: „Can we skip these inanities?“  
„You mean forgetting that you chose Moriartys side?“, Sherlock pulled up his eyebrows.  
„A man in my position is not always able to select what's best for him. Sometimes it's chosen for him. “, Mycroft sat up in his chair.  
„Your excuses had been more persuasive.“, countered his brother.  
„I'm not here to argue with you.“, the older Holmes reached in the inside pocket of his jacket.  
„You need help, this is logical. It is, we both know, the only reason why you would come here. I presume somebody has escaped from you and you are afraid someone could notice this mishap?“, Sherlock grinned contently.  
„Absolutely, you want to tell me how do you know this...“, Mycroft growled and clasped the clutch of his umbrella.  
„Just now as you walked in Anthea was extremely busy with her Blackberry. This could mean that she either has a crisis with one of her affairs or she is about trying to do her job which leads me to believe she is trying to keep the press and Moran away from you. I suppose at least with the press she was successful. Moreover, you have this small vein in your right temple which clearly pulses. You have had it since we were children. The only question that remains: what gives you such headaches that you must beg your brother for help?“, the Detective grinned again.  
„I do not beg!“, Mycroft granted back.  
„Of course you beg. I am obviously the only person in London who can help you, otherwise you would have asked Moran‘s bullies for help. So either someone wants to kill James Moriarty which would be fine for me or somebody has slipped through your security apparatus and has made a fool out of you. This would explain your vigorious reaction when I said, you were begging me and your hands, dear brother, are extremely sweaty. Am I right when I say, that your situation is going to be even more uncomfortable if Moriarty discovers this little secret of yours. You still have Anderson in your service right? Don't worry: Scotland Yard knows about this little incident. What exactly has this person stolen from you? “, John saw the evil grin on Sherlock's face when he saw how Mycroft‘s face grew pale .  
He pulled out the supervision photos out and laid them on the coffee table between them:  
„Here do the math!“, he said sighing.  
With interest Sherlock reached out for it and looked at the pictures and several seconds later he was amused. Really John could hear him chuckling quietly.  
„Awfully funny!“, he shook his black curls, „a young woman has outwitted the big Mycroft Holmes!“  
„She has stolen important data! Sherlock, it is about national security!“, Mycroft defended himself, while his brother scrutinised the pictures.  
„Not my security.“, the Detective shrugged unimpressed.   
„It is also your security Sherlock! What do you think who keeps Moriarty and Moran at bay?“, hissed Mycroft.  
„I am really grateful for your help, my dearest Mycroft.“, Sherlock commented sarcastic.  
Both wheezed.  
„What do you want Mycroft?“, John wanted to know.  
„I want him to trouble himself to find her and to bring back the data.“, urged Mycroft .  
„Your only intention is that the police will arrest me on the street“, Sherlock snapped unbelievingly.  
„Sherlock please, let him finish speaking!“, John demanded of his best friend with an angry look.  
Mycroft nodded to John appreciatively: „Take it for a change of your usual experiments. A case just for you. Find her, take back the data from her and bring her to me, I will take care of her afterwards.“  
„It is about the girl? Oh my goodness, Mycroft, have you fallen for her?“, Sherlock snorted. The idea of his brother being in love was more than ridiculous.  
„No, but nevertheless I think the young lady requires my advice.“, the man with the umbrella smiled.  
„And I will be able to walk around London without any restrictions?“, Sherlock blinked at him with his blue eyes.  
„Of course. Now I already assume you know where to look for our little thief.“, Mycroft leant back a little. He knew Sherlock had become curious.  
„It was not especially difficult if that‘s what you mean. She is in her beginning twenties and judging after the clothes I'd rather suggest she is sleeping under a bridge on the way or at least in the deprived areas , presumably she tries to remain unrecognized. She is already on the run for quite a while now and what concerns her family, she has none , I think of her to be the daughter of an opponent of Moriarty. I would like to bet on that he is also quite eager to get her into his clutches, which could be the reason why you’re keeping her name off the record at the moment.“, Sherlock finished his deduction and passed the photo to John who gasped a little after a look at it.  
„She is... attractive... I mean she is a criminal of course..., but however, very attractive...“, John Watson got muddled.   
„I do not think the lady will have time for dates any time soon, Dr. Watson. Look at my brother for instance, he is not attracted to these feminine charms.“, said Mycroft drily.  
„Distractions of this kind are irrelevant for me, it's sentiment and I don't do sentiment. So what about the name now?“, Sherlock was annoyed.  
„Her name is of Isabel Williams. Her father was an active member of the Labour Party until the election some years ago. After the election he and his wife were put under arrest and were imprisoned later. Their daughter Isabelle found accomodation at the age of seventeen years in one of the education measures where she was an extremely difficult case. Miss William had to be sedated several times because of her violent attacks on supervisors. However, she fled a year later from the institution. Since then she is located in the underground , either if she smears political messages on walls or by criminal actions like tonight. Indeed, this is her first felony. To avoid even greater damage it would be wise , if you found her within the next days.“, Mycroft finished his explanation.  
„An extremely tragic history...“, nodded John and passed his best friend the pictures.  
It was quiet a moment.  
He would accept. Mycroft knew how much the boredom gnawed at Sherlock.  
„What happens to her when I've found her?“, he asked his older brother .  
„That is none of your business, isn't it? Do you accept the case or not?“, Mycroft saw how John stopped his breath.  
„Fine, then I'll take it,“, Sherlock finally nodded..  
His brother got up and clasped the clutch of his umbrella: „Very well, you know how you can contact me if you found her. Goodbye. Sherlock, Doctor Watson, it was real pleasure, as always.“, and then after a few seconds he was gone.  
Both men waited until the front door at the ground floor clicked shut.  
„Did that just happen?“, John wanted to know irritatedly.  
„Obviously. Tomorrow we will begin with the search and now I have to think.“, Sherlock supported his chin with his folded hands.  
„Do you really want to hand Isabelle Williams over to Mycroft?“, John didn't seem to be alright with that thought.  
„I guess that that would be her doom. I need to think“, he pointed out before he remained silent.  
Mind palace, John thought and yawned.  
„I go to bed.“, he murmured and left Sherlocks room.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

„Come on John!“, shouted Sherlock and pulled on his Belstaff along with the blue scarf, while he ran up and down. It was still early and it had taken him a while to get John out of bed.  
„May I have tea or a coffee before we leave?“, John asked while he tripped down the stairs.  
„You are on your feet, you‘re talking, you are fine. Do you have the keys?“, Sherlock shrugged.  
Still tired John searched for in his pockets and found finally what he was looking for: a car key.  
„Here...“, he held them up.  
„Brilliant! You‘re driving.“, then Sherlock hurried out the door.  
„Boys? Where are you going?“, asked Mrs Hudson confused from the kitchen.  
„He has a case from Mycroft. Excuse me, Mrs Hudson. I'll tell you later what it is.“, John followed Sherlock out of the house.  
„Would you hurry up please? You have the keys!“, the Detective stood beside a black taxi which was parked on the street in front of the house.  
„Excuse me, I had forgotten that you can't drive.“, John grumbled.  
„But you can and that should be enough for both of us.“, Sherlock answered when his friend opened the car.  
„Thank you very much.“, the Detective climbed in the back seat while John took the driver's side.  
„Where do you want to go?“, asked the doctor.  
„First we go the places where the most homeless are located. My Homeless Network should still be working. I think Isabel William is a familiar face. For the reason that she has proven her artistic talent, which is why I want to talk to Raz. He busies himself still in the subsoil. His God save Moriarty graffiti some months ago was very inspiring in my view. “, Sherlock explained and grinned.  
„I had expected that you liked something like that.“, John started the engine.  
„First in the direction of Thames.“, ordered the Detective from the back seat and John drove off.  
After Moriarty's decision that the cab drivers should register there customers and to transmit the data to the security ministry , Sherlock couldn't use cabs anymore.   
He had sulked some weeks until the day when John had lost his job because of his friendship to him. For Sherlock there was no reason for concern but rather for joy.   
He bought an old cab from his savings which John needed to repair himself. Of course John had not been pleased with it, finally, he was a medical doctor and not a garage mechanic. Sherlock hadn't got ready to help him. Instead, he had often stood beside the broken car, had philosophised on the mechanical functionalities of autoengines and every now and gave John clever advices. John really had had to hold himself back in order to not to punch his friend‘s face and damage his well-shaped cheek bones.  
Meanwhile, Sherlock had given up to share his clever advices and John was more than thankful about that fact.  
Only on their first drive there had there been a loud discussion because the Consulting Detective did not leave it and had criticised constantly John‘s driving skills, which followed with John requesting Sherlock either to walk by foot or to shut up.  
Surprisingly he had acquiesced. Since then the drives ran nearly harmoniously. Now and then Sherlock still made some grumpy comments after which John suggested he to walk to his designation.  
„If we go to see Raz, I'll stay in the taxi.“, said John and drove the car in the direction of Thames.  
„Why if I may ask?“, Sherlock grinned, John could see this in the rear-view mirror.  
„You know exactly why. When we are talking to him he always 'works' and then there is the police coming around the corner, you both make a getaway and then I have to justify myself.“, rumbled John.  
„Oh John, you know my respect of London‘s friend and helper is a bit tense these days and, therefore, I leave such talks to your absolutely available talent for rethoric.“, Sherlock grinned.  
„Next time I'll tell them, that you are behind corner and that you have a vale of a time, while I carry the can for you. We are too old for these kind of jokes...“, he did not sound very much delighted yet.  
„We talk later about that, now I keep calm I try to think.“, then Sherlock leant back in the seat.  
John on the driver seat shook his head.

Isabel stood in her underwear in the bathroom. It was eight o'clock and she knew that Eric had to go in at the latest one hour to work. Till then she had to be ready for leaving the house as well. It wasn't the best idea to stay alone in the house while he was working. Eric already had enough trouble because he gave her a secret place to stay.

They had tried to play the happy couple some months ago, because they had believed it would be useful for both of them: for Eric, so that nobody could ask questions why a young, good-looking man never was in female company. For Isabel because she needed a place to stay for the night. But this had been too much for both of them. Of course they liked each other, but only as good friends.  
The fact Isabel and Eric had to kiss each other at the door so that everybody believed they were in love had brought them both to their senses. Eric never smooched with women and Isabel only with men who she fancied. Moreover, there had been quarrels between the two of them, which had annoyed them both and so both had decided to end this experiment. It hadn't damaged their friendship, only made them stronger. Now they were able to laugh about this strange situation.

The water in the shower already ran, but Isabel took her time. In Eric‘s bathroom stood a large mirror and Isabel looked at her reflection: her slender body was only covered by her black underwear. She had bruises from the previous night‘s pursuit. There were some scars on her belly and on her back where she could see a small tattoo just over her coccyx . Some numerals which someone had done on her in an unprofessional way.   
Number 3783.   
Painful traces of the past which she could never ever remove. Isabel still remembered the infection afterwards which had almost killed her. Memories of the year that had robbed her youth.   
As well as Isabel could , she pushed her dark thoughts aside and slipped finally under the hot shower. The water flooded over her and warmed her. Taking a hot shower was the only luxury for her in the last time. Usually she only had the showers in King's Cross and often there was no warm water. Her fingers slid lost in thought over a long scar below her belly button. Her skin was a little numb here and felt cold as far as she could just feel it.

Her memories returned and got her like a blow in the face. These were thoughts of a night five years ago. The night she had begged for her own life. It was one of many things Isabel could never forget and which caught her with brunt: 

She lay with her back on the dirty mattress. Her clothes were torn and her skin was only covered meagerly by her underwear. The man who knelt over her pressed a knife hard under her throat.   
„If you scream, it will be the last you will ever do, nobody will come to help you!“, he hissed in her ear.  
Tears ran over her face. The fear choked her and she quietly gasped.   
His free hand explored curiously the upper part of the body. She could not defend herself and her torturer enjoyed this obviously.   
„How sad that you don't relax and enjoy it, we could have so much fun.“, he purred to her and sank the knife point to her stomach.  
„Please...don't hurt me...“,she whispered in a hoarse voice. She felt as if she was trapped beneath him.  
On his face was a cold smile and the knife paused right under her belly button: „You are still so young and your skin...“, he took his time to stroke her skin with his fingertips barely touching and caused a nervous shiver to slide down her spine. „... is so nice, so flawlessly, so soft...“, then he lowered his lips and kissed her there. Disgusted she trembled and tried for the first time since he dragged her in this room to free her body from his embrace. 

„Drop it!“, he shouted at her and hit her face. Blood was flowing from her nose. Eventually, he shot up and kissed her mouth. Isabel bit him until his lip bled. When he moved back she spit him in the face.  
Growling he backed away:„You defend yourself, I like that! Is that what your daddy taught you? Did he tell you not to be nice to men who just want your best?“

The next thing she could remember was the pain on her belly which nearly ripped open and the feeling of something warm that flowed down over her skin and dripped beside her on the mattress...

Isabel changed the temperature of the water to ice-cold. So cold that she believed she would freeze to death yet also made her feel alive at the same moment. To live in the past did not help her. Freezing she turned off the shower and reached for her towel that hung about the heating. Someone knocked at the door.

„Izzie, are you ready? I have to go to the bathroom.“, Eric asked against the closed door.

„I'm getting dressed now.“, she answered and rubbed herself with the towel.

„Alright, I have something to eat in the kitchen and some coffee.“, he said fast.

„Great, I'll be there in a few minutes“, Isabel had to hurry up and get dressed.

When she came from the bathroom her hair was still a little damp and she quickly arranged her shirt.

Eric sat in shorts and a shirt in the kitchen.

„Hey, did you sleep well?“, he asked and took a sip of his coffee. 

„Yes, well at least I tried. It was a sleepless night...“, she admitted.

„Thought so. Do you have any plans for today? “, Eric asked while bringing his cup to the sink.

„I am not sure yet. Walking around in the streets is not safe, but I have to find a place for the flash drive. I need to hide it.“, said Isabel whom was trembling a little. The data could impossibly remain in Erics flat.

„Hide it in my cellar, I am certain that...“, he suggested but Isabel interrupted him.

„No, this is not possible! You are already too deep in this thing already and I will not risk your life even more! Proposal rejected.“, Isabel made her decision and took a big gulp of coffee. It was enough for Eric to hide her almost every night. He risked his skin too often for her.

„Do you have a better idea? You cannot hide it in any of the homeless Hotspots...“, he laughed.  
„Eric if the police find it during a house search you are sunk! I am slightest of your problems!“, growled Isabel.

„Have you found the information you were searching for?“, Eric looked at her expectantly, particularly because he hoped it could also solve his questions.  
„I need to have a look at it first, I only had the time to store the data last night and to take them with me . After that Mycroft Holmes' men were already on my heels.“, Isabel explained to him and pushed her cup worriedly back and forth.

„You know where to find anything in my flat , so you can also use my computer.“, he nodded to her.

„Thank you, I'll think about it. I still want to talk to Raz before I do something.“, Isabel proceeded and saw how Eric pulled his eyebrows up.

„This guy only causes trouble, no matter how right his actions are. At the end of the day you are even deeper in shit than before.“, he shook his head in disbelief.

„He knows best what happens in the underground and he never lets me down. I want to know from him how much I have startled that pack of bastards last night and whether he has planned something new.“, she shrugged.

„Izzie, don't be silly please! You are the most wanted woman in London since yesterday , if not in the whole country! I don't trust Raz, I think he will sell the data to the next person who wants them!

„Oh come on, you know me maybe I won‘t give them to him at all.“, Isabel got up and made her way down the hall where her jacket was hanging and slipped it over her arms along with her bag.

„You were right last night: of course we both have lost people who mean something to us but neither you or I will reach the person who has the responsibility for this pain.“, Eric followed her out of the kitchen. 

„That's not what I want... or at least not yet. For the moment it would suffice if my name disappered from all these files that the government has about me. I don't want to be girl number 3783 for the rest of my life. “, Isabel checked her appearance in the mirror for the last time: under her jacket she carried a black hoodie to shield herself. 

„Okay, I get it. However this is your life but I fear that you'll get into something you can't run away from.“, she could hear the concerned tone in his voice.

„Eric, I'll take care of myself. I promise you that and I also won't show up in your flat the next days, so it won't cause you any trouble.“, she said as she went to slip out of the door.

„Hey, please wait. I am not happy about the fact that you will ask Raz for his advice but you need to do what you think is right. You are the only family I got and I simply do not want to see you disappear in one of Moran's black vehicles.“, he laid one hand on her shoulders.

Izzie turned to him: „I can't sit here and act like everything is fine. I'm done with being afraid all the time.“, she didn't want to address reproaches to him , because he wanted to stop her. He didn't know the whole story. He knew nothing about her scars and what had happened to her at the community home and why she ran away. 

Quickly she pulled Eric in her arms and embraced him.

„Come back tonight, I don't care about what happened yesterday. The thought that you sleep under a bridge or in one of these shady railway stations is not really soothing.“, he said while Isabel slid out of his embrace.

Isabel looked at him briefly and nodded: „Okay, I'll come back. I'll call you later.“, then she left the house. 

It drizzled a little when she made her way down the street. Her first impulse was to go to the next Underground station and to hop on the next train, but then she remembered the cameras, which could film her. At least when Isabel would left the station there would be a reception committee from Mycroft Holmes.

So Izzie walked the way to the Thames by foot.

She knew where Raz currently worked and hoped to find him there. 

It would take her awhile to reach her destination and Isabel was angry that she had not taken one of Eric‘s sandwiches. At least, she had some coffee in her stomach.

Isabel with a lowered head ran forward without anticipating that this day would become nerve-wracking...


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Izzie and Sherlock meet

4.

Raz had many faces.  
He looked like a nice guy, who played along the rules.   
On the one hand he was the successful graffiti artist before the coup whose pieces of art had provided sensation and recognition which were forbidden from Moriartys after his assumption of office. Today, at the times of James Moriarty, Raz had moved up the ladder to an political activist and was gone down in the London underworld.   
Here he rallied the people around him who felt the same.  
In the night after her escape from the community home Isabel had bumped into him when she reached the Thames.  
He was adding one of his political graffitis to the wall as she literally tripped over him, hungry and overtired.  
She had been intimidated and Raz had soon been sure of the fact that he dealed with somebody who did not want to be found by Moran's men and the police either.   
Both had been nasty with each other until they realized that their positions weren't that different. Even if Izzie had been afraid at the beginning, she helped Raz with some of his actions willingly. Often both had been nearly caught by the police or Morans men and had to run away.  
Running was thing she learnt out there.  
What Isabel had noted in only a few days she knew Raz were his good contacts within the London underworld: no matter what kind of criminal, whether mafiosi, petty crook or drug dealer, the lean young man with the boyish face knew them all and also dealed with them. All had the biggest respect for him because he affronted Moriarty and was still untouchable. He had taught Izzie two things: to stand for her actions and if it was necessary to run for her life.  
Raz was still a crook.  
Izzie found him really on the shore of the Thames, near of the Southwark bridge. He was spraying a 'End the Terror now!' slogan on the wall. To underline his message he had painted a caricature of Moriartys face next to the slogan. Everything in bright red colour.  
„I like your new work.“, Izzie smiled as them slowly approached him. She had pulled the hood far in the face but looked him immediately in the dark eyes.  
Raz turned the head in her direction. He wore a breath protection, which he got down now.   
He sank the spray can with the red colour: „You are the last person I expected here today. Morans men and New Scotland yard are looking for you.“  
„It's not possible to please everybody. I just wanted to know how the situation is right now.“, answered Izzie and watched how Raz fumbled with a package of cigarettes which he had taken from the pocket of his grey hoodie and to her offered one to her.  
„No thanks, you know smoking never was my thing.“, she rejected it friendly.  
Raz shrugged and lighted a cigarette: „Your choice, helps against the hunger, your stomach growls so loud you could scare away mongrels.“  
„Well I forego but I know that you have always something to eat in your bag. You smoke and I'll eat.“, grinned Izzie and had a look at Raz messenger bag which leant by the wall, where she found a sandwich.   
„Roastbeef, mustard and gherkins? What is so wrong with peanut butter and jam for breakfast? I probably will never understand your eating habits...“, Isabel shook her head sighing with the look at the topping.   
„You don't have to eat it...“, winked Raz.  
„Humph...“, Isabel made a disappointed sound before she took a bite.  
„You did it actually, didn't you? You have got into the security headquarters...“, the young man grinned at her and puffed blue smoke in the air. Isabel had told him some weeks ago when the idea had ghosted through her head.  
„Very well observed.“, she nodded chewing.  
„And you have found what you have searched?“, it was less a question than a statement.  
„Indeed.“, Izzie grinned contently.  
„Now you are here because you want to know what you should do now and you need advice. Isn't this Eric's job?“, Raz seemed to be amused at his statement and blew out smoke once more. Eric and he had only met a few times: once as Eric had gathered Izzie drunk state near the Millenium bridge, after Raz had called him.   
Both had met and had exchanged some emphatically polite words in which Eric had told Raz that he thought about him as an irresponsible guy.  
Eric thought Raz was bad company and a crook while Raz thought Eric was a philistine who played by Moriarty's rules, but little did Raz know...  
„Oh come on Raz. I know you do not like each other. Can you conect with Mycroft Holmes PA or rather to his sex kitten?“, Isabel wiped her hands on her trousers as them the last piece of sandwich had been demolished.  
„You mean with this Anthea?“, asked Raz back and flicked the cigarette stub on the ground.  
„If she is called so.“, she nodded.  
„That's like shooting a fish in a barrel but why?“  
„Because I suppose that Mr Holmes certainly does not want Kitty Reilly to have a real page-one-story in her blog.“, a smile certain of victory spread over Isabel's face.  
„I get it, you really want to blackmail really wanna blackmail Mycroft Holmes.“, he laughed.  
„Blackmailing is such an ugly word, let's say I take my destiny in to my own hands.“, Isabel grinned at him.  
„Where do you keep the data if I may ask?“, Raz wanted to know.  
„Raz, we all keep our dirty little secrets.“, Izzie turned her look to the graffiti.  
„You carry them with you, don't you?“, he blinked at her.  
She became a little red: „Better then hiding them in Eric's flat...“  
„I could take care of them.“, Raz smiled at her sheepishly.  
„No Raz, this is my battle.“, Isabel rejected his request.  
„You're playing dangerous little game. Many people disappeared never to be seen again for less. Moreover, your name is still on the search list because you scarpered from the community home.“  
„Well I'm aware, but I'll take the risk.“, answered Izzie fast and her hand touched her trouser pocket in which the flashdevice rested.  
„Anthea is a difficult negotiating partner and you will have to argue sooner or later also with her boss. Do not think that you'll just snap a finger and the two will erase your data.“, reminded Raz her.  
„What does she fancy about this guy?“, Isabel grinned at him.  
„Maybe he has some hidden talents.“, Raz grinned back.  
„You are disgusting.“, she shuddered.  
„And you are an outrageous chancer , allthough I am very impressed.“  
„Thank you so much king of the underworld.“, Isabel returned in a snippy tone.  
„You're welcome my love, I try to help wherever I can and if it is only with my lunch.“, he sighed.  
For a moment they were both quiet and Raz started to decorate his work with some white highlights.  
Isabel watched him for a moment. Raz had said the same like Eric this morning,only with the difference that Eric had been conderned while Raz was amused.  
„Up to this point nobody has found me, nobody believes that I wander through the city as if I had all the time in the world or that I'm standing here and have a little chat with you. The members of the police are not clever enough to catch me. I state that I could have a coffee while I'm sitting at Trafalgar Square and no one would arrest me.“, Isabel grinned smugly.  
„And you are completely sure about that?“, Raz gave her a mocking side glance.  
„More or less...“, Isabel crossed her arms in front of her chest.  
„You know that Mycroft Holmes will change the tune?“  
„You mean brute force? I am really shocked that he believes I can be caught by Morans bunch of fools. Moreover, I'm over the worsed.“, she could not keep down a laughter.  
„Believe me if his brother is on your heels then Morans men are the smallest of your of your problems.“, he decorated Moriarty's features. Now the drawing showed the prime ministers head with bad folds on the forehead and some nasty spots his cheeks.  
„His view is not crazy enough..“, Izzie tried to change the subject.  
„I will do that later.“, Raz took a step back and looked at the picture again.  
„Are we talking about Sherlock Holmes? He has disappeared, either he stands under house arrest, or he is dead I do not think that he should make me nervous. Is he really as brilliant as everybody says?“, she shrugged.   
„You have no idea.“, Raz answered and looked suddenly over her shoulder, „You can convince yourself of it, we receive visitors. Sherlock Holmes is on his way. Do you stay for a small chat?“, Raz grinned triumphing.  
„I beg your pardon?“, her pupils widened but she did not turn round. Instead, she checked with a hand the fit of her hood.  
„Watson has brought hime her and they both are coming here. You can stay here and act as if everything is fine or you make it off to the next corner behind me where you can listen to what he has to say“, Raz reached in his pocket and gave her a little bag with a white powder.  
„What should I do with little bag of gak? I don't use drugs, remember?“, Isabel asked him furious.  
„Just be thankful that I gave you a disguise for the next ten minutes as my lovely customer, it comes on the house and now decide: go or stay, what will it be Darling?“, the young man seemed to be very nervous.  
Uunconfident Izzie did what she shouldn't have done: she turned her head only so far that she could see the tall, slender man with the black curls running in her direction. A smaller blond guy followed him and yawned while he was walking.  
„Street corner...“, she murmured.

As Sherlock and John got out of the the cab they discovered Raz by a wall near the street where he sprayed colour on a house wall. Sherlock had clarified during their drive that they could only find the artist there because it was his present project was to be improve the appearance of the bridges in in town with some regime-critical graffitis and because only the Southwark bridge and the Towerbridge remained, he had tapped that Raz would save the Towerbridge as his big finale. John sometimes found it frightening how good Sherlock was in deducting things.  
„Why we do want to speak with Raz?“, John asked him while running. He had to make of some steps more to keep up with his friend.  
„Because Raz has the best contacts in this environment and is trustworthier than the people of the Homeless Network. I think Miss William needs people who she can trust and for that Raz is the best choice. People call him the king of the underworld and as well as I estimate her I think she is clever enough to have his support.“, answered Sherlock fast.  
„He is not alone.“, John nodded in the direction of the artist. Next him stood a slender person. She had turned her back to them and wore the hood of her black sweater over her head. The legs were in a pair of jeans and on the feet she carried a pair of worn-out, black Chucks  
„Obviously. Do we want to flip a coin John whether it is a man or a woman?“, he grinned at John, as if he would win this bet without a doubt.  
Both observed how Raz put something in her hand and a short verbal exchange followed, then his client disappeared behind the next corner. With a look at the walk of the client John was sure that it was a woman.  
„Raz!“, Sherlock called the young man as they approached him.   
„Sherlock, it's been a while.“, he stretched the mask of his face as both men him reached.  
„I had to addredd to you my congratulations in person. This new project is really inspiring. Extremely tasteful. Is this your newest work?“, he looked amused at the blood-red drawing on the wall.  
„Yes I call it the bridge cycle. You should come to the exposure of the final picture, I think the police will fork out a bottle of champagne.“, the lean young man grinned.  
„With pleasure , but I am not here because of your artistic abilities.“, Sherlock reached in the pocket of his coat and pulled out the supervision photos of Isabel and showed them to Raz. John stood beside him and seemed to be a little nervous.   
„Dr. Watson I forgot to ask you how you are today.“, Raz grinned over to John.  
„I'm fine... fabulous, to tell the truth. As long as you keep your colour tins in your hand everything is very well.“, John pulled his mouth to a skew grin.  
„John is afraid he would have to argue with the police today.“, Scherlock chuckled.  
„Bollocks...“, murmured John and heard his both interlocutors giggling.  
„Raz, have you seen the young lady?“, Sherlock turned again to Raz who examined the photos interest.  
„Is this the security headquarter of your brother? Is she responsible for the burglary yesterday?“, asked Raz grinning.  
„Is there one more place in London where so many servers are collected?“, Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. He was annoyed.  
„If I knew her, I would have pronounced her my congratulations. Who is the beauty queen?“, Raz returned to the pictures.  
„Raz, you should know I notice if you lie.“, the deep voice of the Detective sounded irritated.  
„It was worth the try. This is Izzie, I know her from the subsoil, I have seen her two or three times.“, the artist ansered and shrugged.  
„You know her resumé?“, John wanted to know from him.  
„Her Parents were members of the opposition who were arrested, she was a inmate of a community home. We came to know when she went underground. Nevertheless, you know, I am the guardian of the lost souls.“, Raz smiled sarcastically.  
„Yes, and an angel on top of that.“, noted John sarcastically  
„Do you know where she is right now? She was a bit naughty and my brother is very much in sorrow about the fact that she played with his toys“, Sherlock laughed.  
„I'm sorry, I have not seen here in a while , I already thought she was arrested.“, explained Raz and wrapped up his colour tins .  
„Who was the person who stood beside you when we came? You are not the born drug dealer Raz, even if you must maintain a certain reputation.“  
„Nevertheless, you know Sherlock, a boy like me who is out on the streets most time of the day also has to eat from time to time. Take it as my second leg to stand on.“, the young man smiled at him.  
„You still lie Raz. Should I tell you who this client was? Young, female, in her early twenties. You had a small conversation as I came, I suppose she did not want the drugs at all. You wanted to give her a head start, Raz, what means that she is not especially keen on meeting me.“, Sherlock concluded contently. He knew his deductions were right.  
„This could be, however, it could be also due to the fact that drugs are forbidden and one already gets three years of Pentonville alone for the possession.“, the young man scratched in the back of the head.  
„Yes, this could be, however, I am sure as ring as your customer has just disappeared, had them more than in a great hurry and this not only because she could bring a little bag to coke behind castle and bolt. I have just noticed like you have pointed out them to the fact that I on the way to you am Hardly you were ready already she disappeared behind the next street corner. Of Isabel William and your last meeting is no five minutes!“, Raz fell down the jaw. Of course he knew Sherlocks abilities, but up to now he had never been able to nail him so. 

Behind the corner Isabel slowly started to sweat. Sherlock Holmes was tearing Raz apart, bit by bit.   
„Hey, you cannot ask from to flink my own people. If this is your deduction I can't change anything about it.“, she heard her friend say.  
„Sherlock, don't you think you're rushing it?“, said the man who was with him. John Watson, Isabel supposed .Really careful she dared to look out from her hiding place to work out her chances were: she would presumably manage Watson.   
He was a man of medium height and not exactly what she would call an athletic guy.  
Izzie giggled lightly: she had to think of an article before the change of regime in which the former army doctor had been called 'the bachelor'.   
He looked friendly, without a doubt but he was no challenge. She dealt with such guys like that everyday. Nothing special though.  
It was Sherlock Holmes who upset her stomach : tall, slender, definitively athletic and probably blisteringly fast. Besides, he will not trip over his expensive Bellstaff coat, Isabel thought viciously.  
For a brief moment her look slid over his face and Izzie had to remember her conversation with Eric of the eve: he was attractive and emitted the same time something incredibly dangerous for her. His curved lips had contorted into a grin.   
And those cheek bones...   
Yes, it would be a pity if she had to do any harm to this face.  
She whistled through her teeth and looked to the ground.  
„Not in the slightest. She stands right behind the corner, right Raz?“, said Sherlock fast and Isabel looked up.  
„I have no idea.“, Raz played dumb.  
„I interpret this as a yes.“, she heard a deep baritone voice say which suddenly seemed to come closer to her.  
„Sherlock, wait!“, Watson .  
Quietly Isabel pushed herself away from the wall made her way down the street.  
„Excuse me!“, she suddenly heard a voice approaching behind her, but she did not turn around to face her pursuer.  
„Miss William stay where you are!“, Sherlock shouted once more.  
„That's not me, you must have mistake me for somebody else!“, she recalled to him and raised her speed.  
„Why do you run faster? If I had mistaken you, you wouldn't need to run faster.“, also he seemed to go faster.  
Isabel still wore the hood over the head. Ice-cold cold sweat was on her forehead.  
„That's just how I am...“, she answered.  
„You could stop and we could talk about it.“, his deep voice was closer now, like the sound of his feet.  
To stop dead and what then?   
Would he really only want to talk to her?   
Would he want to catch her?   
Did she have another option?  
Yes, there was an option: running. One of the few useful things which she had learnt on the street: if you have no other way out, run as fast as you can. Don't look over your shoulder because this slows you down. Run and cast off the one who is on your heels.   
„This is ridiculous, do you know this?“, was the next statement that came out of Sherlock's mouth and this time she felt that there was only a small gap between them.   
„If you catch me , we'll talk. I am sorry that it will not happen. “, then Isabel started to run.   
As fast as she could she rushed down the street without paying attention where she ran. The only thought in her head was that tshe couldn't allow herself to get caught.   
The noise of her steps on the hard ground roared in her ears.   
Her pursuer really needed a brief moment before he was able to follow her.   
Isabel had started to run so suddenly that Sherlock had not been able to react not immediately. Now he pursued her even faster.  
The street was long degrees. There were houses on each side, Isabel knew the central districts of London well enough to know that here and there some lanes would open between the houses.   
These passageways often had an access to the next street over. She only had to pass the right moment and slip through.   
Her breath started to rattle and she gasped. Everybody breath she took hurt in her lungs. Izzies legs started to tremble a little, but this was normal. The pursuit of the last night was still in her bones and Isabel reckoned that Sherlock Holmes already knew about that fact.  
Behind her she could hear him gasping quietly and also the noise of his steps which seemed to get closer.  
On the right next to her a lane appeared and Isabel took her chance and turned with a jerky movement to the right stumbling a little but finding her balance again quickly.   
It was still raining. The drizzle had turned into a rain with thicker drops. Isabels foot stepped in a puddle and sopped the material of her shoes and her jeans a little.   
She looked around: the lane was narrow. On the right from she found two dustbins. On the left she saw the jagged masonry of the wall and two locked metal doors. The passageway in front of her was free. Without thinking she made a jump aside and tipped over both garbage containers, so that Sherlock nearly tripped over it. Isabel jumped elegantly over it and briefly looked at him as she turned around.  
„If we meet again one day, Mr. Holmes, we will talk, but unfortunately that's not going to happen. Have good life and now excuse me, I my schedule is a bit tense.“, Izzie just how arrogant she sounded, but her relief was too big. Sherlock stood tripping near a pile of rubbish and tried to find his balance again. Isabel couldn't help herself and laughed out loud.  
„Nice that I didn't need to introduce myself, it's only tiresome.“, he said out of breath.  
„This was not difficult, because who does not know the world's only consulting detective Sherlock Holmes? Because you already know my name I'd say we are even.“, Isabel curtseyed before him, „I hope we won't see each other again so soon Mr. Holmes.“  
Then she wanted to disappear through the other exit of the lane, but after only a few steps she realised that somebody blocked her way.  
John Watson ran up to them: „Stay where you are, Miss!“  
Isabels heart made a nervous hop. Seldom she tangled with two guys all at once. Then she looked in Johns eyes and saw how uncertain he really was.  
With a quick movement of her hand she slipped off the hood from her head.  
„Good timing, John!“, Sherlock stated sarcastically and John gave him a slight look.  
Isabel looked at him as she got closer: „I don't want to harm you, Miss William!“  
„Seems like I'm a real famous person when both of you already know my name. I'm transported by joy, really. Do I make you nervous, Mr. Watson? “, she grinned at him as she saw how Johns cheeks reddened a little .  
„That was easier than you think for me and there you just saw John's common reaction when it comes to members of the other gender.“, Sherlock commented on her question, while he tripped and nearly fell down. John snorted because of his statement.  
„I'm sorry Mr. Watson, but you are not my type and secondly you should not make me hurt you. So please step aside“, Izzie pressed out and ignored Sherlock who observed John and her tensely.  
„You will harm me?“, John looked at ther surprised and made a step forward.  
„I had warned you.“, sighed Isabel before seh gave him two specific blows with her palms on his auricles and kicked against his chest. It made him go down. In John's ears was a disagreeable whistle and he felt a ghastly disorientation.  
„Gentlemen, it was a pleasure for me!“, she fled from them.  
However, Sherlock would not still surrender , even if her small show had impressed him and there something else was: he hadn't been able to deduce her. Something about her prevented that he used his observation skills. A fact that only made him more curious.  
„Come on John!“, he shouted as he jumped up and chased after Isabel. John gave him a loud groan and stood up wobbling. It took him a moment to follow Sherlock.  
Both were up to her heels.  
Annoyed she turned around: these two would probably never surrender!  
It must have been a strange picture: two men who ran after a young woman on the bright light of day in the middle of London.  
Isabel could not suppress a grin.  
The three headed for a big crossroads. If everything worked out well Izzie would be able to shake them off here. She looked fast to the right and to the left before she ran on the street. The approaching cars were too far to threaten her.  
Unfortunately, she set against the wet, slippery road and the expired soles of her shoes. With a quick step in the middle on the street Isabel slipped and fell on the ground. Panting she lay on the street. Her head roared, her palms burnt. With full force she had hit the asphalt, so that her skin had chafed. Behind her Sherlock and John had stopped and stared at her. Shaking Isabel tried to get back to her feet, but she failed. Her forces left her there.  
Right at this moment a truck rushed behind her. Wildly honking he approached Isabel. Just a few moments before she had been so proud that she escaped Sherlock Holmes and now Izzie was sure that this masterstroke could have been her last.  
„We must do something!“, she heard John say but Sherlock did not answer. Fascinated he watched how Isabel desperately tried to get up..   
Isabel had no possibility to flee and was sure, that she wouldn't survive this time. Briefly before of the truck was near enough to hit her she closed her eyes. Suddenly Izzie felt an arm firmly around her waist and which rolled her fast from the danger zone to the save side of the street.   
Panting she opened her eyes. She lay with her back on the pavement and the first thing she saw, were a pair beaming blue eyes who went over her features. Sherlock Holmes knelt over her and stared at her, while he took the pulse at her wrist. Sherlock had saved her life!   
„Now you may say thanks, Isabel.“, he noted drily while his arm rested around her waist. It felt nearly soothing on her, even if she avoided proximity to men.  
„Thanks.“, then she fought herself free. The guy should not only think that it would be so easy! As Isabel got up she reeled a moment.  
John Watson came: „Are you alright I am a doctor, allow me to have a look at you.“, he offered her anxiously.  
„I'm fine, thanks...“, murmured Izzie and felt a little dazed. Nevertheless, she wanted to leave.  
„Please be sensible, you could have a concussion and untreated this can be...“, she interrupted him.  
„I am doing well and now please, they let me go. I think we are even...“, she whispered and John saw that Isabel was right.   
Sherlock wanted to grab her arm when she ran away but John stopped him:   
„It is enough for today Sherlock. Allow her to go. You are clever enough that to find her again any time.“  
Sherlock nodded to him without objections and then murmured: „A very interesting meeting, don't you think, my dear John?“


End file.
